Two Musicians
by heatqueen
Summary: A flautist and a harpist are drawn together...
1. Chapter 1

The warm room on the top floor of the building came as a comfort to those who had come from outside's weather. Rain was thundering down, and streaks of lightning were followed by loud claps of thunder. The wind slapped the sodden pedestrians mercilessly in the face and even the thickest layers of clothing couldn't warm their goose-pimpled skin. The only lights were headlights and street-lamps, but the light didn't warm the atmosphere – instead they gave off a forced radiance that was neither pretty nor comforting. The room on the top floor was different, though. It was carpeted with royal red and a fire was lit in the fireplace. Its radiation came as relaxing and relieving, rather than unnatural and affected. In the corner of the room stood a beautiful, black, baby-grand piano and on its stand lay scores of hand-written music, composed by the owner of the room. At the back of the room there was a dark wooden desk with an unfinished composition and several pencils on it. A dark blue case containing a violin was resting open on the surface, as well as a half-finished mug of coffee which was gradually getting cold as it lay abandoned by its drinker.

The owner of the room was a man called James Wilson. A relatively tall man with light brown hair, he was a cheerful but serious man with a passion for music. Many thought he was rather odd, for he spent hours on end sitting at the piano fingering the keys and scribbling on the scores notes that would eventually become a beautiful, uplifting melody. People called him antisocial and most had stopped bothering with him, for he never seemed had time to bother with anyone else. This wasn't true, however, for James Wilson was also a teacher. For those who thought he wasn't bothered, well, he _was_ bothered, especially with his students. He taught many instruments: piano, violin, flute, oboe, saxophone, harp, horn and drums. He also gave singing lessons. It was James Wilson's passion to pass on the gift of music to his students, for music is one of the many wonders of the world. One couldn't live without music.

At this present moment, James Wilson was one of the pedestrians who was hurrying down the street in the terrible weather. Armed with a coat and an umbrella, he battled through the wind and rain, making his way to the house of a female flautist, to give a private lesson at her home. The female's name was Lita Kino, and she was on grade seven, having passed all of her previous grades with distinction. Lita Kino was one of James's favourite students and he thought it was a pleasure to teach her. And so he struggled through the bad weather at seven o'clock in the evening, looking forward to the comforts of Lita's home, and maybe drinks if she offered him one.

Finally he arrived and was greeted by the tall brunette who was looking anxiously at him, and asking if he was okay after his long conflict with the weather. James replied 'yes' and followed Lita into the living room. It was a nice room, warm, with green sofas set around a flat screen television. The carpet was turquoise and the sitting area had a blue rug on it, bordered with green zigzag patterns. The back wall was lined with shelves, on which lay a stack of books, several photographs and a collection of different green-coloured crystals in all sorts of shapes. There was even one of Father Christmas which always managed to bring a smile to James's face.

The brunette entered with her flute and her music. As James instructed her to play, she lifted the beautiful instrument and sent out her sweet message in the form of a melody. James had decided long ago that this girl was a natural at the flute, and could go on to be great one day. Perhaps she'd become like him, living alone and spending long hours in front of the piano. Or maybe she'd end up being famous, playing in the Royal Albert Hall and such places, and even travelling around the world. At any rate, music would be a very important part of Lita's future and he was sure of it. He smiled as she ended her piece with a delicate trill and rounded off the last note with a grace he so rarely saw in his students.

And yet, Lita still played with many flaws, for no matter how natural one is at something, there is always more to learn. James himself was still learning even though many said that he couldn't possibly any better. Music was an art to be greatly appreciated, and only those who appreciated it learned. For this reason, James did not feel bad when he gave constructive criticism to Lita as well as praise. She accepted the criticism graciously and raised her flute to begin to play again, eradicating many of the mistakes she'd made before. She smiled when she finished, and James returned it, unable to help but think that her smile was beautiful. She would have a great love-life, he thought, for anyone as pretty as her would have boys at her feet. He shook his head to clear it: his student's love-life was not important at the moment. He turned back to the lesson.

Lita had now started to play a beautiful aria. As she played, a debate began in James's mind. He had been looking for someone to do duet work with, for a duet was one of his latest compositions. Lita had been one of his first options when it came to doing duets, but he wondered if that would hinder her progress with her grades. He did so badly want her to keep getting distinctions, and then go on to take even bigger exams, teaching exams and the like. He wondered if she wasn't working hard enough already, and whether she actually needed to be burdened with even more. For this reason, he had kept the duet to himself and had never played any part of it to anyone. He was the only person in the word who knew how it sounded.

Forty minutes passed and the lesson ended. Lita did indeed invite James to stay for drinks and he accepted gladly: he did not feel like facing the weather any time soon. As they sat down, Lita brought through some coffee and some home-made biscuits, offering one to James before taking one herself. As James studied the girl, he noted that she didn't look the least bit tired, but rather exhilarated from her latest brush with music. It was just then that he decided that when it came to music, no amount of work would overload her, but would only enlighten her more. Upon this realization, he finally proposed about the duet, a feat which turned out to be a good one for Lita accepted almost instantly. James said that he would bring the necessary sheets of music next lesson and the matter closed.

Finally, the coffee cups emptied and the stash of biscuits disappeared. James stood up and gathered his things together, bidding Lita goodbye and making a final promise to bring the sheets of music for the duet next week. He urged her to keep practising, said goodbye again ten headed out of the house and into the treacherous weather. He didn't feel so bad now, however, for the very thought of Lita doing the duet with him came as a comfort. He couldn't wait to get back to his apartment just so that he could pick up his flute and practise his part, even though he already knew it so well. It was his excitement at getting home that kept his legs working towards his apartment building. At last he arrived back home and momentarily crashed onto the sofa, before sitting up and taking his flute out of its black leather case and preparing it. Going over to the baby-grand piano, he sat on its stool and tuned the flute. Then he played one of the duet's parts from memory, feeling enlightened and joyful.

When the cuckoo-bird chirped ten o'clock James finally put away the flute, upon the realization that there were many things he had not done yet. He had a quick shower then prepared dinner, knowing that he wasn't nearly half as good at cooking as Lita. He ate his food, slowly for that matter, and stumbled into bed as the cuckoo-bird chirped eleven.


	2. Chapter 2

The harpist was a petite, blue-haired girl who was shy in character but was really lovely once one got to know her. Her harp melodies displayed beauty as the player strummed her fingers up and down in scales, causing all who heard to pause and listen. The blue-haired girl was called Amy Anderson and she was merely seventeen years old. Her achievements at the harp were really great for someone her age and many were awed at her ability to invent tunes on the spot, something that many found hard to do. Thus at this present moment, Amy was playing her great, silver harp for her mother, who was sitting on the sofa listening with an awed expression on her face.

When Amy played she no longer appeared to be herself, but seemed to become one with her music. Her expression looked distant, immersed in what she was doing, and was not paying attention to her surroundings. Her fingers seemed to be moving of their own accord, their movements not forced but natural and elegant. It seemed that nothing mattered to her but the music.

The tune ended and she received polite applause from her mother who then stood up to go and make some tea. Amy stood the harp back up and put its cover over it for protection, then followed her mother into the kitchen. Checking the time, she saw that she had forty minutes until her teacher, James Wilson, came to give her a lesson. She sat down at the kitchen table and when her tea arrived, she sipped it slowly, savouring its neutral flavour and allowing its warmth to trickle down her throat. It was quite ironic that she should love its warmth so much, for many who knew her deemed her to be quite an ice princess. She had only a few friends and spent all her time with her harp, not wishing to be disturbed when she played.

At the forty-minute mark a rapping on the door was heard, for James had arrived promptly as usual. Amy let him in, greeting him, and they proceeded to begin her harlp lesson. It's funny how one does will in one's practice but seems to get everything wrong during the lesson, for this was how Amy felt, though she did not show it. As James pointed out her wrong-doings a crease in her forehead appeared as she concentrated harder and harder, until eventually James said "Stop."

Amy stopped with a confused look on her face and James proceeded to tell her what she was doing wrong.

"You need to feel the music. You're concentrating so hard on your technique that the piece has no feeling in it. You have to play with your heart, not your hands; you have to let the piece flow like a river, and fly away with the birds."

To the untrained ear this is what Amy's music always sounded like, but to gifted James Wilson, he knew that this girl had far more potential than what she was letting on, and he hoped that he could bring out the very best in her. He listened as Amy played her piece again, and smiled when he noted how much freer it now sounded. A piece always seems to have a certain lilt that only shows when you play with your heart, not your hands; this lilt is what shined distinctly through Amy's piece the last time she played it. James complimented her when she finally relaxed her hands and stood the harp upright, and Amy seemed to have lost the crease in her forehead and was instead smiling.

"It sounds much better when it's free," she said.

The lesson now over, James packed away his belongings including his notebook and pencil and his file of student records. He bade Amy goodbye and began the journey home, the weather a lot better than it had been that evening he'd been to teach Lita. He walked at a slow-ish pace away from Amy's residence, stopping to turn and look back at it. It was a small, cottage-like home made mostly of stone and cement, and it had a wonderful garden full of the most beautiful flowers. Near the house there was a peaceful-looking lake inhabited with several frogs and quite a few tadpoles. There were also water lilies just coming into bloom. A tranquil sight it was, James couldn't stop to gaze at it, for he had another lesson to teach.

He sighed at the lake's beauty as it disappeared around the corner and out of sight.


	3. Chapter 3

Unknown to them, the flautist and the harpist were to be drawn together, as if by fate, to create together beautiful duets of nature and utmost tranquillity. Typical as such happenings occur, the moment they first met was by the lake near Amy's house.

Lita was walking, flute case in hand, trying to find a more peaceful place to play rather than her bedroom. It was a beautiful day with blue skies nicely decorated with the occasional white cloud, and there was plenty of sun and a gentle breeze. Such weather could only give one a feel-good factor, but had a habit of making you feel stuffy if you stayed indoors too much. For this reason, Lita had left her house in search of a private outdoor area at which she could play.

When she first came across the lake, she thought at first she was alone. As she approached it, however, she realized that the area around the lake was already occupied with someone else who had decided that they, too, would like to practice outside rather than in the stuffy confines of their bedroom. The first notes she heard immediately attracted her attention and she walked cautiously in the direction of the music, not wanting to disturb its player. She soon recognised the instrument to be that of a harp, and a beautiful one too. When she caught sight of the player she thought that she and the harp matched together like one plus one equalled two. Although she could only see the back of her head, she instantly knew that should she turn around, her face would be beautiful. Her pale hands moved elegantly across the strings of the harp, each not resonating perfectly, with a hint of uniqueness from the player. Lita was mesmerized.

An idea forming in her mind, she opened her flute case and put together the silver instrument. So that she would not distract the harpist, she tuned it softly then walked slowly up to the harpist, knowing that her entrance would come as a surprise when she started playing. Slightly nervous at what the harpist's reaction would be, Lita raised the flute to her lips and began to play.

---

Amy's favourite place to play the harp was by the lake near her house, for it really was one of the most natural and beautiful parts of her area. Her harp flowed through the river's water, to the fish and tadpoles and frogs, talking to them, telling them life's happy ways. Amy was so absorbed in her piece, not wanting all the good feeling to go away, that she did not notice a certain flautist coming up behind her.

Hence she was very surprised when the flautist started playing in harmony with her. She did not stop, for that would stop the good vibes all too abruptly, but was interested in what the outcome would be. She tried to imagine what the mystery-player would look like, and her thoughts kept coming back to spiritual creatures, elves and fairies, for this person truly played like an angel.

---

A harp and flute duet is one of incredible beauty. They mix together like Earth and Water, the result being Life. The melody was uplifting and joyful, almost as if the two musicians were calling out to nature, so that nature would come to them. It made the already beautiful lake seem even more wondrous. Both the flautist and the harpist were joyful, each inventing creative little harmonies that seemed to merge into each other perfectly. Neither seemed to want to finish, although they knew they had to one day, so after what could have been hours, days or years the tune finally slowed to a graceful ending. The harpist stood her harp upright; the flautist lowered her flute. They turned to face each other, each taking in the other's appearance. Both of the girls could be classed as beautiful, even though they looked so different.

The flautist eventually spoke.

"My name is Lita Kino," she said.

"Amy," the blue-haired girl replied as they shook hands. Few words needed to be said for both girls instantly knew that they'd found their soul mate, that they'd never be able to play their melodies without the other's instrument playing in harmony again. Smiles played on both their lips as Amy put her hands to her harp again. Lita followed on cue and put the flute to her lips again. Once again the beautiful, uplifting melody flowed gracefully through the wind and water and, unnoticed to both Lita and Amy, a small crowd had formed to watch. At the back of the crowd stood a tall man with light brown hair and brown eyes, and this man smiled, admiring the two girls, for he had finally seen the best of the potential of his two favourite students.


End file.
